


No Time to Spare

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Series: Winter Fic Exchanges! [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Implied shady business, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz and Prowl are both dedicated to their jobs, but Jazz is concerned that Prowl's current case is getting out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Time to Spare

**Author's Note:**

> An emergency fill for the tformers-secret-santa exchange! Which happened all the way back in January. This is for Tinybott, who included Prowl/Jazz and one bot 'kidnapping' the other to hang out/save them from being overworked' on their wishlist. 
> 
> I'm so sorry you're getting your gift so late, but I hope you enjoy it!

“Jazz,” Prowl sighed, pinching his nasal ridge in a rather uncharacteristic show of irritation, “no.”

 

Jazz was biting back some irritation of his own, though rather than exasperated sighs, his was sure to come in the form of a litany of curses. He wished he could reach through the viewscreen and _shake_ Prowl. Right now, the only thing that was stopping him from reacting more dramatically was the knowledge that an argument would stress Prowl out more, and the last thing Prowl needed right now was more stress.

It was probably stressing Prowl out to even take time away from his work in order to have this conversation, but Jazz couldn’t help one last pleading attempt while he still had Prowl’s full attention.

“Prowl, much more of this and you’re gonna fry something,” he wheedled.

“It won’t be for much longer, Jazz,” Prowl said. Jazz was sure he was trying to seem reassuring, but his drooping door panels and dim optics spoke for him, in Jazz’s opinion. He still looked exhausted.

“Yeah, sure,” Jazz muttered. “And then they’ll have another case that requires your full attention, just like every time before it.” He shook his helm. “Look, you’re doing important work, an’ I respect that, but you need a _break_.”

“I know,” Prowl admitted, slumping. Jazz had to stop himself from touching the viewscreen, overcome with a momentary urge to drag Prowl to the berth for a proper recharge. “As soon as this case is done, we’ll spend some time together.”

“That’s not what I’m pushing for here and you know it,” Jazz retorted. But a beeping timer interrupted him before he could say anything else. “Frag. I gotta go. Just tell me you’re gonna use some of that leave time they’re supposed to be giving you, all right?”

Disappointment flashed across Prowl’s face, but he mastered it. “Goodbye for now, Jazz. Stay safe.”

He hadn’t even promised to try, but there was no time left to debate the issue. Jazz had work to do, and Prowl needed to recharge. “Rest well, babe.”

The screen flickered off, and Jazz let his helm fall against it with a soft thunk. “You’re gonna be the end of me, spark,” he muttered. Prowl, or his own rampant feelings, he wasn’t honestly sure which.

Eventually he straightened. He had a long drive ahead of him, and while the long stretches of road wouldn’t do much to soothe his worry, he had other things to do besides worry about Prowl.

The cheap hotel room he’d taken while staying in Tetrahex didn’t take long to empty out. His portable console got tucked into his subspace alongside his encrypted datapads, all of his monitoring devices were removed, a few innocuous scuffs and scrapes along the berth would make it visible that someone had been staying here without showing who.

With his mission complete, Jazz was free to slip away from Tetrahex as though he’d never been.

Satisfied, Jazz slipped out of the hotel, then out onto the streets, nosing his way through Tetrahex’s traffic. Once he was clear of the city limits, he’d ping his boss with an update, and hunt out a radio station or two that might distract him from thinking about Prowl for the entire drive back. With any luck, he’d get back before Prowl’s next shift ended.

\--

Going home had not often been a simple task for Jazz.

Iacon had been home for a while now, but he’d been a vagabond before then, traveling from city to city to search for work and better opportunities. Iacon had been one, against all odds, but his work now led him away from it more often than not.

It had meant keeping a storage unit to his name and government-assigned quarters when he was back in the city, but that hadn’t mattered so much at first. He’d been glad enough to be kept in fuel.

His relationship with Prowl had at first been a passing convenience. Jazz hadn’t needed or wanted anything but a casual frag, someone who was up for some fun when he was in Iacon but didn’t mind it if he was gone more than he was there. Prowl was still stinging after one too many breakups being blamed on his inability to sacrifice his work schedule for his partner’s wants. In his opinion, Jazz’s long absences had been a clear benefit, for Jazz would not be around Iacon to be miffed by Prowl’s lack of attention.

But despite their best intentions, the casual part of things hadn’t lasted. A failed infiltration had left Jazz confined to Iacon after a frame reformat, and despite his best intentions, boredom had driven him to Prowl again and again.

And Prowl, despite his initial concerns, had welcomed him in again and again. Jazz thought privately that Prowl hadn’t realized just how lonely he was until Jazz had begun to haunt his doorstep. Jazz hadn’t realized it himself, until he’d realized he was staying the night at Prowl’s more than he was using his bare temporary apartment.

Now, instead of a storage unit and newly assigned quarters every time Jazz returned from a mission, Prowl kept an extra room for him.

He couldn’t go home immediately after reaching Iacon. There were reports to give, debriefings to attend, evaluations both physical and mental to be conducted. But when all of that was gone, he could make the short drive over to Prowl’s apartment, instead of waiting for administration to finally give him the code for his latest flop.

The scanner at Prowl’s door recognized him automatically, and he stumbled through the dark apartment with nothing more than a cursory sweep—none of the décor had changed since he left, and Prowl wasn’t there. Anything else could wait until later. He collapsed into recharge with barely more time than it took to hook up the appropriate cables.

He awoke sometime later to the sound of the door opening, and he pushed himself off the slab to go investigate. He was still tired and he could probably stand to spend a while longer in recharge, but he was no longer blindly exhausted.

When he came out into the main room, he found Prowl just barely through the doorway. It took Prowl a disconcertingly long time to focus his optics on Jazz. His optics were dim and flickering, and he didn’t seem quite certain of his balance, from the way he was clutching the doorframe.

“…Jazz.” He said, laboriously. “I didn’t realize you’d be back.”

“Wasn’t sure I would be,” Jazz says, a half-truth that Prowl didn’t catch. He’d misled Prowl about the time of his arrival, sure, but he’d also been hoping to return in time to get a full recharge before Prowl returned.

Prowl spent a minute digesting that information, but his delayed reaction to it was rather anticlimactic. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Have you had energon? There should be—“

Jazz intercepted him before he could start to rummage around in the cupboards. Prowl really was loopy with exhaustion, because he let himself be steered away from his task and toward his own berth.

“Don’t worry about that, Prowler,” Jazz said, propelling Prowl along with a careful little push. “C’mon, it’s recharge time for the both of us.”

“All right,” Prowl said, and he allowed Jazz to maneuver him onto the berth, though he batted away Jazz’s hands in order to plug in the recharge cable himself.

Jazz lingered for a moment as Prowl immediately powered down into recharge. There was enough space on the berth, and Prowl had a second recharge hookup… well. It really wasn’t a debate. He snuggled in to Prowl’s side, tucking his helm against Prowl’s pauldron, and let himself drift off.

When he awoke for the second time, he lifted his helm to the feeling of all systems in the green, and spent a while just lounging and luxuriating in the feeling. Prowl’s systems were humming along next to him, quiet and even, and Jazz took advantage of the opportunity to look him over.

He couldn’t say he liked what he saw. Prowl was utilitarian about his paint, but he usually tried to keep it neat. Jazz could see plenty of scuffs and chips accumulated along his plating, and it looked as though Prowl hadn’t even tried to tend to them. The vidscreen made it easy to hide the minor wear, but now Jazz could see it, and he wasn’t pleased with what it meant for Prowl’s schedule.

Eventually, his own urge to move got the better of him. Moving cautiously and silently, he slipped out of the berth. When he was sure he hadn’t disturbed Prowl, he snuck out into the main room.

Prowl’s cabinets were almost bare, which was just another strike towards how overworked Prowl must be. There was enough for the two of them to have something before Prowl was dragged off to his next shift, whenever that was, but Jazz added a trip for energon and additives to his agenda for the day. He considered trying to get Prowl to hold still long enough for a touch-up, but discarded the thought a moment later. It would have to wait until Prowl’s current case finished.

Finally, he turned his attention to the final part of his investigation.

Getting access to Prowl’s personal console was far less work than usual—Prowl must have forgotten to do more than turn off the screen the last time he’d used it, which is very unlike him.

A moment’s snooping was all he needed to find the information he wanted, and again it was far less of a task than he thought it would be, because Prowl had left his personal schedule up in the background. Not even behind barriers—another thing he must have been checking before recharging and going to work.

Jazz smiled a little at the sight of little notations for every schedule opening when he and Jazz were both able to talk. Prowl, in his own way, was thoughtful, though Jazz thought it showed the strain Prowl had been under just as much, if he was reaching out to Jazz in the little free time he had. Certainly the openings were few and far between. Besides the times spent driving to and from his work, Prowl’s schedule seemed to consist of nothing more than working and recharging.

It made him start digging deeper. Nominally, according to Prowl’s schedule, his case would be wrapped up within the next few days, and he would have a chance to relax.

What really concerned him, however, was how long the schedule extended back. It had been two months since Prowl had started working this frantically, far longer than Jazz had suspected, and certainly longer than Prowl had ever told him.

No wonder Prowl seemed about to collapse. He’d been working himself down to the wire for so long that his reserves were gone. Jazz wouldn’t be surprised if he could manage nothing more than work and recharge. It would certainly explain the state of his energon supply.

More than that, though, the lack of officially designated vacation time at the end of Prowl’s current project worried him. If it wasn’t on Prowl’s schedule, then it wasn’t officially scheduled, and Jazz knew that Prowl, if presented with another case that apparently required his attention, would have a hard time refusing.

That simply wouldn’t do.

Jazz closed down the console, properly this time. There was a good deal of time left before Prowl’s shift was scheduled to start, and Jazz had no doubt that Prowl would be resting until the last possible moment. Jazz would have plenty of work to do until then.

\--

Prowl woke with a jerk to the buzzing of his internal alarm, and could not stop himself from groaning. His entire frame felt too heavy to move, and his HUD was lit up with warnings of undercharge and processing lags. If he tried to drive in this state, Prowl would be at serious danger of crashing.

Pressing his helm against the berth, he sorted through the warnings, dismissing what he could and redistributing his meager reserves of energy to deal with the rest. Consuming energon would help, but even getting out of the berth seemed a monumental task.

Something tapped against his helm. Prowl lit his optics to see Jazz staring down at him.

Right. Jazz had appeared in his apartment last night. Prowl could only remember the evening as a vague blur, but he could remember the sound of Jazz’s voice and his gentle hands guiding him to the berth.

Jazz was _back_ , a full week early.

He scrambled upright. “Jazz!”

His lover looked none the worse for wear for his trip or his journey. His plating was not the usual gloss Prowl was used to Jazz keeping while in Iacon, but his armor was unscuffed, and his visor was bright. Prowl was caught between the urge to hug him and the urge to yell at him for showing up without warning, and the conflict left him momentarily frozen.

“Mornin’,” Jazz said. His voice was a smooth purr that would have done interesting things to Prowl’s systems if he had any energy to spare. Instead, his attention was captured by the cube of energon Jazz held out to him. “You’re runnin’ low on fuel. I went out and got us more.”

“Thank you,” Prowl rasped. Jazz handed over the cube just before Prowl ended up snatching it, but he couldn’t stop himself from downing the entire thing in a few gulps.

He lowered the cube to find Jazz looking at him with a sad smile. “Babe, how long’s it been since you were full up on energy?” he asked.

“I rarely am,” Prowl said. It was dodging the question and telling Jazz far too much, all at once, but Prowl didn’t want to admit how little time he’d had to take care of himself these past few weeks. Slipping into rationing his energon, instead of sparing the time to get more, had come far too easily.

Jazz knew it, but he had the mercy not to comment on it. He just handed Prowl another cube, this one half-full. Prowl drank down that one as well. It was enough to top off his tanks, and with more energy he could dismiss more of the warnings, though some of them would only disappear with a full recharge cycle.

It was enough for now, and Prowl pushed himself out of the berth. “Thank you, Jazz, but I have to leave now.”

Jazz looked at him with an expression that was perfectly understanding, one that made Prowl fill with guilt. He didn’t let any show, but moved toward the doorway. If Jazz had told him that he was coming back to Iacon, he could have been better prepared for him. He knew Jazz would be worrying about him now, but there was little he could do about it. Another alarm was beginning to beep insistently at him. If he didn’t leave soon, he would be late.

Jazz didn’t resist when Prowl moved past him toward the door, though he did trail him there. “Work well, then,” he said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Yes,” Prowl found himself agreeing. He hesitated in the doorway, and felt a surge of relief when Jazz read into his pause to pull him into a brief but enthusiastic kiss. “You do your thing, Prowl,” he said when he pulled away. “I’ll do mine.”

\--

It was not at all a reassuring statement to hear from Jazz before he left, but Prowl could not tease an answer out of him before he had to leave for work, and then his shift started and he had no attention to spare for whatever mischief Jazz might be up to.

His attention was consumed for the rest of the day, with reports and meetings and endless, endless data. The interruptions were constant, and so when Prowl finished his final analysis, the first in a series of five this case required of him, it was the end of his usual working shift.

Overtime again, he realized with a disappointed pang, and began to pull up the next report. Hopefully Jazz would understand.

He tried to pull up the next report, but blinked as the console denied it. He tried again, only to have the system kick him out entirely. Entering his credentials in an attempt to log in again only got him denied, with a warning that another attempt would get his console flagged.

He was preparing to make a concerned call to his superior, and trying to ignore his growing panic, when a tap against his armor had him starting. He caught his hip on the desk as he turned and it made him stagger, so his first glimpse of his intruder was his blue and silver bumper.

“Jazz?” Prowl asked, bewildered. He used Jazz’s support to regain his balance, but Jazz grabbed onto his hands before he could pull away. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” Jazz said. His grin was brilliant, and Prowl began to wonder if he should be afraid. “Work’s over, Prowl.”

“But—“

“But nothing,” Jazz said firmly, stepping back and gently leading Prowl along with him. “I had a talk with your boss.”

Prowl really did step back this time, his door panels rising with alarm. “Jazz, what did you do?”

Jazz grabbed at him again, his visor filled with a bright intensity that actually drove Prowl silent. “They’re working you to deactivation, Prowl. I’m just reminding them that their interests aren’t the only ones that they need to take into account.” Prowl’s expression must have conveyed some of his alarm, because Jazz patted him gently. “Hey. It’s not going to get you fired, or demoted, or anything like that. We all know you work best when you’re at your best. They had a case lined up for you after this, you know that? Something to start as soon as you’d finished on this one.”

Prowl wilted, seeing the… he hesitated to call it a trap, but he would have found himself placed in a position where he would not easily refuse a task, and he would continue to work himself to exhaustion. He thought of the leave request on his console, the one he’d intended to file but had been too busy to manage.

“Jazz…” he began.

“You can finish the rest of your reports from your console in the apartment,” Jazz said, a note of pleading in his voice now. “I’m not making you drop the case, but you need to rest before you blow something out—“

Jazz was _worried_ , Prowl realized. Honestly worried for him. And no doubt he was concerned about pulling up the spectre of Prowl’s past lovers, and their constant demands that he work less, pay more attention to them, choose between his vocation and his relationship.

“Jazz,” Prowl interrupted, smiling to lessen the sting. “Let’s go home.”

“What? Oh!” Jazz grabbed his hands, and was smiling brilliantly. “Yeah! Let’s go.”

\--

Prowl woke, unsure how long it had been since he’d powered down into recharge but for once not caring. He felt wonderfully rested, and more relaxed than he had been since… Since Jazz had left on his latest mission. His systems were running more efficiently than they had in a long time.

He considered getting up. There was no reason for him to remain lying down when he wasn’t recharging—no reason but the arm wrapped comfortably around his waist.

He brought his optics online to find Jazz staring at him. “Time to get up?” he asked.

Prowl considered, then settled, shifting until he could tangle his legs with Jazz’s. “No,” he declared, settling in to the sound of Jazz’s pleased chuckle. “Not yet.”


End file.
